Uh... Hello
Aug. 5th, 2004 03:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
whatarewordsforWelcome to everyone who's adding this little thing. I wasn't expecting so many really. I'm flattered. To say the least. Now to try to write like no one's looking. That's the hardest thing I have to deal with when I'm writing. I have trouble just writing. I always have an audience in mind. Even if it's not the audience that reads. Then I spend my time getting all caught up in my head and working at trying to be amusing or evoking some sort of point. And I don't just write.
It seems the best stuff happens when I just write. Sometimes it starts with a little stupid update on what's happenin' in my life and times. Trying to be careful not to give out too much information or sometimes trying to blatantly give out too much information just to prove a point or "come out" about something and exorcise demons, daring to be bold and in your face about things one "ought not to" talk about. (Like being an escort/massage parlor worker or having butt sex in the same room as an otter.) Then there's the problem of sometimes feeling the need to edit based on WHO is reading. Whether or not they'll be offended because I'm obviously talking about them. Not naming any names mind you, but obviously referring to someone that anyone who has any clue about what's going on knows precisely who it is.
And maybe they don't want to be talked about. Even if it's something rich and flattering, perhaps somewhat passionate. They might get the "wrong" idea. But I try to dump out what I'm thinking about. Maybe today's muse is the person I slept with this weekend or maybe it's the espresso girl at the chocolate shop down the street from school. I never know. I never know until I sit down. Maybe it's the guy that flipped me off while I was sitting in the crosswalk downtown. Maybe it's an old friend or an old lover. Sometimes it's just whoever makes the best story or conveys the best emotion right frickin now. Once again, I never know until I start.
Usually, once I sit down to write, after a few minutes of fucking around, a post starts to happen. I start talking about a party and launch into the psychology of whoring. I start talking about buying a car and meld into my experiences bouncing around in the desert. I bitch and moan about a lame 12-step meeting and then *poof* It's all about my son and what it's like to want or not want a child in your life.
This post seems to be morphing into a dissertation of my writing style and how it comes to pass. That could change by the time I'm done.
I don't do a lot of editing. Once the sentence is down, I rarely change it. I'll go back and reread and edit out the spelling errors and maybe add or delete a word or two. But for the most part, once I sit down and write it, knowing and remembering it's a semi-public venue, I'm committed. Appropriate or not, I'm committed. A year later or maybe even a week or a month later I'll look at it and go, "I can't belive I wrote about that on Live Journal." I'll think about the people who know more about me this way than I would ever tell them in the ways I've met them. I think about how many people know personal information. And sometimes I'm horrified. And then I think, nah... don't worry about it. Who really cares? I'm not defined by my past. It's mine to share and it's mine to work through. And no one is forced to read this.
I talk about a lot of things that are somewhat controversial. You'd think more people would have an issue with this. Cause everyone's judgemental in some fashion or another. But oddly enough I don't seem to get a lot of flack. Perhaps it's because I'm so unapologetic about it. Not guilty. Not ashamed. It seems when you act ashamed or secretive about things, people seem to think you have something to be ashamed of and will judge accordingly. Although, I do have a locked down friends only Rockettqween journal. Perhaps if I was totally open I'd have numerous dissenting voices telling me exactly why I'm in the wrong. But I pick and choose who reads it and delete accordingly. Cause well, I don't come to LJ to be harassed. I come to spew and escape and drop and leave and entertain. And be validated too. Cause I think I've mentioned before, the simple fact that someone has read every word, (even though I suspect that all hundred and something folks that list me as a "friend" don't -- I know there's at least a small handful that do) but the simple fact that some ONE has read each and every single word that I've written, even if it's not the most entertaining and titilating of posts, means I've been heard and my life and my experiences (or at least my thoughts and perception of them) are real.
It's hard to reconcile where I've been sometimes. Especially when I'm surrounded by new people and new situations in a somewhat "normal" setting. Then I have to sit back and gage who I have to be to avoid judgemental treatment, to avoid being looked at with horror or pity. The pity's the worst though. Someone looking at you with that whole "Oh you poor wayward girl. You're really messed up." look. It's worse than the folks that are so sensationsalized by what happened to you that their eyes go big and you're now a circus freak and they have to ask you all about everything. Or maybe what's worse are the smarmy smirky ones that convey to you in one look that they're better than you because they haven't been there, or you should have known better. Now you're the crazy one. You are less than. All because of where you've been and not in any way shape or form because of where you ARE. I really really hate those people.... "How could you ever have done that in the FIRST place???" Well... I don't know. I did it. I made those particular choices. I made those particular "mistakes". Deal with it.
But it's aggravating. Always having to avoid certain questions until you get to know someone better that maybe someone else just matter of factly answers without a second thought. Questions about past employment, past relationships, children, travel, family, mental health, dating, age, etc. The constant fear of rejection, exile, snide commentary, rudeness, personal probing questions, and isolation in a group. And it does happen. It has happened. It's happened in old hangouts, it's happened with "friends", it's happened on the job, it's even happened in my own family. So I'm a little cautious.
I also have a problem with being a little "too open" once I finally get comfortable too. I get sick and tired of hiding everything and not being able to talk as freely about my past as other people do. I get angry and I get tired of holding back. I start to want to "test" people's friendships and loyalty by giving them just a "bit" more to chew on. It's one of those "You like me huh? Well.. how do you like me NOW?" To some extent this is selfish. But I also don't want to present a false front and I often wish to simply explain where I'm coming from. Where I've been, and how that relates to how I view the world NOW. And why. And maybe glean a bit of understanding from others and to challenge what they've been brought up with and to hopefully make a few people THINK. Maybe that's manipulative. To earn someone's trust and respect and then drop a bomb on them. But you gotta make them like you first. That's the key. Then you get to see what beliefs they hold so dear and which ones they're willing to be flexible on. Sometimes you'll be surprised and they'll get quiet and then say... "I did that." Sometimes it doesn't phase them at all. Sometimes they'll be uncomfortable and express it but accept you anyway. And that to me is a precious gift. Occasionally it happens that someone says it doesn't bother them and then later on down the line you find out that it really does and you part ways, hopefully not bitter enemies and without a bunch of fanfare and fighting. Simply sadness that someone couldn't rise above where you've been to see where you are.
And here we are. At the end of this post that went from one thing to another to another. Such is the way of the writing of the Rockettqween.
It seems the best stuff happens when I just write. Sometimes it starts with a little stupid update on what's happenin' in my life and times. Trying to be careful not to give out too much information or sometimes trying to blatantly give out too much information just to prove a point or "come out" about something and exorcise demons, daring to be bold and in your face about things one "ought not to" talk about. (Like being an escort/massage parlor worker or having butt sex in the same room as an otter.) Then there's the problem of sometimes feeling the need to edit based on WHO is reading. Whether or not they'll be offended because I'm obviously talking about them. Not naming any names mind you, but obviously referring to someone that anyone who has any clue about what's going on knows precisely who it is.
And maybe they don't want to be talked about. Even if it's something rich and flattering, perhaps somewhat passionate. They might get the "wrong" idea. But I try to dump out what I'm thinking about. Maybe today's muse is the person I slept with this weekend or maybe it's the espresso girl at the chocolate shop down the street from school. I never know. I never know until I sit down. Maybe it's the guy that flipped me off while I was sitting in the crosswalk downtown. Maybe it's an old friend or an old lover. Sometimes it's just whoever makes the best story or conveys the best emotion right frickin now. Once again, I never know until I start.
Usually, once I sit down to write, after a few minutes of fucking around, a post starts to happen. I start talking about a party and launch into the psychology of whoring. I start talking about buying a car and meld into my experiences bouncing around in the desert. I bitch and moan about a lame 12-step meeting and then *poof* It's all about my son and what it's like to want or not want a child in your life.
This post seems to be morphing into a dissertation of my writing style and how it comes to pass. That could change by the time I'm done.
I don't do a lot of editing. Once the sentence is down, I rarely change it. I'll go back and reread and edit out the spelling errors and maybe add or delete a word or two. But for the most part, once I sit down and write it, knowing and remembering it's a semi-public venue, I'm committed. Appropriate or not, I'm committed. A year later or maybe even a week or a month later I'll look at it and go, "I can't belive I wrote about that on Live Journal." I'll think about the people who know more about me this way than I would ever tell them in the ways I've met them. I think about how many people know personal information. And sometimes I'm horrified. And then I think, nah... don't worry about it. Who really cares? I'm not defined by my past. It's mine to share and it's mine to work through. And no one is forced to read this.
I talk about a lot of things that are somewhat controversial. You'd think more people would have an issue with this. Cause everyone's judgemental in some fashion or another. But oddly enough I don't seem to get a lot of flack. Perhaps it's because I'm so unapologetic about it. Not guilty. Not ashamed. It seems when you act ashamed or secretive about things, people seem to think you have something to be ashamed of and will judge accordingly. Although, I do have a locked down friends only Rockettqween journal. Perhaps if I was totally open I'd have numerous dissenting voices telling me exactly why I'm in the wrong. But I pick and choose who reads it and delete accordingly. Cause well, I don't come to LJ to be harassed. I come to spew and escape and drop and leave and entertain. And be validated too. Cause I think I've mentioned before, the simple fact that someone has read every word, (even though I suspect that all hundred and something folks that list me as a "friend" don't -- I know there's at least a small handful that do) but the simple fact that some ONE has read each and every single word that I've written, even if it's not the most entertaining and titilating of posts, means I've been heard and my life and my experiences (or at least my thoughts and perception of them) are real.
It's hard to reconcile where I've been sometimes. Especially when I'm surrounded by new people and new situations in a somewhat "normal" setting. Then I have to sit back and gage who I have to be to avoid judgemental treatment, to avoid being looked at with horror or pity. The pity's the worst though. Someone looking at you with that whole "Oh you poor wayward girl. You're really messed up." look. It's worse than the folks that are so sensationsalized by what happened to you that their eyes go big and you're now a circus freak and they have to ask you all about everything. Or maybe what's worse are the smarmy smirky ones that convey to you in one look that they're better than you because they haven't been there, or you should have known better. Now you're the crazy one. You are less than. All because of where you've been and not in any way shape or form because of where you ARE. I really really hate those people.... "How could you ever have done that in the FIRST place???" Well... I don't know. I did it. I made those particular choices. I made those particular "mistakes". Deal with it.
But it's aggravating. Always having to avoid certain questions until you get to know someone better that maybe someone else just matter of factly answers without a second thought. Questions about past employment, past relationships, children, travel, family, mental health, dating, age, etc. The constant fear of rejection, exile, snide commentary, rudeness, personal probing questions, and isolation in a group. And it does happen. It has happened. It's happened in old hangouts, it's happened with "friends", it's happened on the job, it's even happened in my own family. So I'm a little cautious.
I also have a problem with being a little "too open" once I finally get comfortable too. I get sick and tired of hiding everything and not being able to talk as freely about my past as other people do. I get angry and I get tired of holding back. I start to want to "test" people's friendships and loyalty by giving them just a "bit" more to chew on. It's one of those "You like me huh? Well.. how do you like me NOW?" To some extent this is selfish. But I also don't want to present a false front and I often wish to simply explain where I'm coming from. Where I've been, and how that relates to how I view the world NOW. And why. And maybe glean a bit of understanding from others and to challenge what they've been brought up with and to hopefully make a few people THINK. Maybe that's manipulative. To earn someone's trust and respect and then drop a bomb on them. But you gotta make them like you first. That's the key. Then you get to see what beliefs they hold so dear and which ones they're willing to be flexible on. Sometimes you'll be surprised and they'll get quiet and then say... "I did that." Sometimes it doesn't phase them at all. Sometimes they'll be uncomfortable and express it but accept you anyway. And that to me is a precious gift. Occasionally it happens that someone says it doesn't bother them and then later on down the line you find out that it really does and you part ways, hopefully not bitter enemies and without a bunch of fanfare and fighting. Simply sadness that someone couldn't rise above where you've been to see where you are.
And here we are. At the end of this post that went from one thing to another to another. Such is the way of the writing of the Rockettqween.
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yeah, yeah....
Date: 2004-08-12 12:11 pm (UTC)